Through My Eyes
by downtonabbey15
Summary: He was mortified. He was "The Face" of Big Time Rush. He was supposed to look good. Besides, it wasn't technically starving himself if he couldn't feel he was starving. . . right? Rated T for an eating disorder.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So, I know I have to finish "When Darkness Calls" and I've already got the next chapter for that sort of written. My writing brain was cooperating with me for a while, but it's crunch time with school work now and I think I've hit a wall, lol. I have four essays due before next month, but what do I spend most of my free time on? Writing BTR fanfiction. And you know what? That's totally okay, lol. ****So, here's another story! This should only be about 3-4 chapters max. I'm actually almost done with it, but I thought I'd go ahead and post the first chapter and see what you guys think. It's going to have sort of a sequel/continuation, but that's nowhere near done. ****I wrote this story because the subject matter is something that is very close to my heart. **

**TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter isn't so bad, but all the chapters in this story will be referring to an eating disorder, as well as calorie counting and purging. Please don't read if this could upset you in any way. If you struggle with any of these things, I'll keep you in my prayers. If anyone ever needs to talk, please don't hesitate to message me. **

* * *

"Carlos, would you _please _focus and _keep walking_?!"

The plea fell on deaf ears, and Logan rolled his eyes as he struggled to drag his luggage towards the door. He couldn't remember packing _all _of this stuff last month…

"Carlos!" he called ahead of him.

A few feet in front of him, Carlos stumbled as he moved out of the way of the lobby doors, missing being clobbered by the heavy glass by only a few inches. He turned to glare at Logan.

"I am _trying _to kill a minotaur here, Logan!" he snapped, gesturing to the Nintendo DS in his hand.

"Well, _we _are trying to get upstairs," Logan hissed. "So if you don't mind, will you _please _GET THE DOOR!"

Carlos scrambled to pull the door open, though he let it go as he entered the lobby and returned his attention to his game. Behind him, James barely caught it with his foot, stumbling as he struggled to kick the door open without a free hand.

"Would someone _please _explain to me," he panted, shuffling through the door and pausing to hold it for Logan with his foot, "why _I'm _the one who has to carry his stuff plus mine?!"

Logan caught the door, nearly falling as the combined weight with his bags pushed him forwards. "Because you have the longest arms," he answered, trying to hold the door for Kendall, who was behind him.

"Okay, well I'm sweating, and 'The Face' can't sweat!"

"Everyone perspires, James," Logan sighed, setting a bag down and straightening his back out painfully.

James stared at him blankly.

"Sweats, James! Everyone sweats!"

"I knew that!"

"No, you didn't!"

"Okay!" Kendall shouted above them, dropping his own bags and pushing them apart. "Logan, good job, you knew another word for sweat! James, we all sweat so _please _just deal with it. Now, I don't know about the two of you, but I was just on a three-hour plane ride, with a toddler behind me who thought my seat was a piñata. I'm tired, and cranky, and hungry, so can we please just get upstairs?!"

Logan and James glared at each other but relented. "Fine," they muttered in unison, turning away. Logan reached to grab his bag again and James headed for the elevator, not even seeing the oncoming luggage cart being pushed in his direction. He tried to step away quickly, managing to take a pace backward before the corner of the cart caught onto the end of one of Carlos' bags and James was knocked completely off balance. He stumbled back, shuffling quickly to try to catch himself before he and the bags met the floor. He nearly fell, barely catching himself low to the ground and still clutching the bags with sure hands. He chuckled and started to rise slowly when—

_Riiiiiiiiiiiiip._

That . . . that did not just happen. James was pretty sure he turned about three shades paler than normal as he froze, nearly dropping the bags when he felt a sudden breeze where he shouldn't have.

"James," Kendall stammered, irritability forgotten as he began to laugh uncontrollably.

James turned slowly around to face his friends, trying his best to keep his eyes on Logan and not Kendall, who was currently beet red as he pressed a hand over his mouth to keep silent.

"Please tell me that did not just happen," James begged quietly, eyes wide as he focused on Logan.

Logan was biting his lip, clearly trying to keep a straight face and doing a much better job than Kendall. He nodded, unable to resist cracking a contained smile. "It did."

James was certain all the blood in his entire body rose to his cheeks at that moment, as he stood shakily in the middle of the lobby. He glanced around frantically, his gaze flickering between the faces of his thoroughly entertained friends and . . . at least a dozen people in the room who'd seen the whole thing.

He was _mortified_.

In fact, he was sure he'd never been so humiliated in his life, except for when Gustavo told him he had no talent. That had been truly awful, but this?

He wanted to shrivel up into a ball right then and there and never emerge again.

Logan seemed to realize that James wasn't nearly as amused as the rest of them were, and he hurried to stand directly behind him. "James, come on," he encouraged, motioning him to follow Kendall and Carlos towards the elevator. James was frozen for a moment, before he forced his feet to move in a near dash for the lift. Logan hurried to keep up and block the scene from passerby, but really . . . they were in the middle of the lobby.

The ride to the next floor was so silent it made everyone uncomfortable. Kendall stood in the far-left corner, literally biting his lip to keep from laughing. Logan leaned against the wall quietly to his right, eyeing the operation buttons as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. James was still, head hung so that his hair covered his eyes, and Carlos, still absorbed in his game, stood beside him.

James couldn't seem to will the furious blush off of his face. He took a shaky breath, raising his eyes to look at the small screen above the door as they ascended. No one said a word, and James dared to hope that maybe he could count on the three others being good friends and completely letting the unfortunate incident go.

Until Kendall literally couldn't contain himself and snorted loudly. He doubled over in laughter, even as Logan elbowed him in the side.

"It's not funny," James snapped, avoiding his eyes.

"Oh yeah, it is!"

Beside him, Carlos smirked a bit before beginning to giggle himself. Logan rolled his eyes, and if he found the situation as amusing as the others, he didn't let it show.

The elevator announced their arrival on the second floor with a ding, and the boys quickly filed out, Kendall in the lead as he hurried to remove the key from his pocket. He jammed it into the lock and fiddled with it a bit before raising his eyes to meet James'.

"James," he started, a bit more serious now as he took in the humiliated look on his friend's face.

James didn't answer, instead keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

"James-"

"Shut up."

Kendall scoffed, still smiling. "James, relax man." He pushed the door open gently, taking a quick step back as the taller boy pushed through. "James, I'm sorry," he said, following him inside as the others followed suit.

James refused to heed their calls, instead hurrying up the stairs to the room he shared with Carlos. He promptly dumped their bags on the floor, then turned to shut the door. Locking it was unnecessary. Carlos may have been a ball of energy, but he wasn't thoughtless. The closed door was all James needed to indicate he wanted to be left alone.

He quickly kicked off his shoes, then hurried to undo his jeans, wincing as the waistline cut into his stomach. He slid them off, spinning them around in a flash and peering at the rear seam.

There it was, for all the world to see. A _huge _tear right down the center.

James was horrified.

He'd. . . he'd actually _ripped his pants _in the middle of the lobby. In front of at least a dozen people, maybe more. And there was no doubt in his mind that those people would tell others. He was positive the entire building would know of his mishap by the end of the day.

His gaze traveled from the now ruined jeans to his waistline. He could see the deep red imprint from where the pants had cut into his skin, and he rubbed it, wincing. He didn't remember them being that tight, but he shrugged. They were an older pair anyway. That was it.

He chucked them off to the side, making a mental note to dispose of them later, then quickly headed for his dresser, opening a lower drawer to grab a new, unadulterated pair of jeans. He slipped them on, frowning when he felt the waistband cut into his skin in a similar fashion.

What the heck?

He quickly turned to eye himself in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the door. He didn't. . . he didn't look any different, not that he could see, anyway. A little tired, considering they'd just gotten off of a three-hour flight, but that was it. But his jeans had certainly never hurt his stomach the way they did now. A bit uneasily, he hurried into the bathroom connected to the bedroom, pulling the scale from its place beside the sink counter and stepping onto it gingerly.

_172_.

Okay, that was definitely a bit more than he usually weighed. He tended to fluctuate between the 150s and 60s maximum, considering his muscle. But Gustavo had actually been a pretty decent human being and had allowed them to return home to Minnesota for the entire month of August after concluding their May-August tour. It was truly awesome. Rare were the times they got to see their families now, and even rarer that they got to be home for the summer. He'd spent two weeks with his mother and another two with his father and his. . . new family. It was awkward, but it was the most he'd seen of any of them in ages and he knew it was likely the last he'd see of them for a while. It was a dream come true, since it was summer, and they had no make-up work to worry about. They literally spent a full month doing nothing but skating, playing hockey, and goofing off, and it was wonderful.

James tended more towards healthy food in general; he had no qualms about their weekly movie pig-out sessions, but he generally tried to put as little grease and sugar in his body as possible. Their month off had been a special occasion though, full of mass amounts of "cheat" foods and special treats and one midnight pizza baking session with his sister and half-brother (he was sure his stepmother still hadn't forgiven them for what they'd done to her kitchen, but he didn't live with her, so it wasn't his problem), and he'd admittedly eaten a bit poorer than he usually did. But James had always had a fast metabolism; it was rare for him to gain weight at all, and he almost always lost it immediately. One hundred and seventy-two pounds was more than ten pounds above his normal weight. Had he really eaten that much?

With a cringe, he returned the scale to its previous position and headed back out into his bedroom, eyeing himself once more in the mirror.

He really didn't look different in his opinion. He was fit and toned and he _liked _it. He just. . . didn't like that number. At all.

He'd never really gone on a fitness plan before. He hadn't needed to, with his metabolism and how active he was. One hundred and seventy-two was unacceptable, though. Maybe just this once he'd have to make an exception. Just. . . healthier food and a bit more exercise. It would work, right?

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**AN: So, what did you guys think? Please review! Thank you for reading and God bless you! **

**-downtonabbey15 **


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Guys this is the second story I've updated today, look at me GO! Okay, I'm good now, lol. I just love updating and I love when I can do it often. **

**Anyway, thank you guys so much for the response to the first chapter! I'm so glad you guys like this story! I'm not sure if there will be one or two more chapters, but for now, here's chapter two! Behold the James angst! (Sigh) I really can't just write anything happy, can I? Lol, anyway, I hope you guys like it!**

**TRIGGER WARNING for purging and mentions of drug use. **

* * *

He was officially going to lose his mind.

Five days. Five days he'd gone eating only fruits and vegetables and whatever meat he could get his hands on that wasn't dripping in grease. Five days of spending an hour in the gym each day, in addition to their taxing dance rehearsals and the studio and general horsing off. Five days. . . and he'd lost three-tenths of a pound?!

The scale couldn't possibly be right. It was broken or jammed or something because all that work could not have possibly been for barely three-tenths of a pound. He'd fully intended to get the extra weight off his body in only a week or two, extreme an idea as that was. He was counting on his metabolism and diet to get him there, and at this rate? He'd be lucky to get to 170.

"James!" came Kendall's voice through the door as he pounded on the wooden frame. "We're gonna start the movie without you if you don't hurry up!"

"I'm coming!" James snapped back good-naturedly. He slipped the scale back into its spot and stood, gazing into the mirror with a sigh. If he didn't know the number, he was sure he wouldn't have an issue. But 172 played on a continuous loop inside his head, and it was driving him up a wall, especially considering everything he'd gone through during the week to get the number back down.

Realizing it had been a while since Kendall had knocked and that the others would likely get suspicious, he quickly slipped his shirt back on over his head and headed out into the living room.

Logan and Kendall had already set out a generous array of unhealthy snacks in front of the orange couch. Carlos sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a massive pile of DVDs while using an even more massive swirly straw to drink from a soda can on the table.

"Will you pick a movie already?" Logan complained, looking irritably at the helmet-clad Latino.

Carlos kept the straw clenched between his teeth and muttered something unintelligible before returning to his pile. Logan shared a confused look with Kendall and shrugged before dropping down onto the couch and chugging from his water bottle (he couldn't sleep if he drank soda after six p.m., the nerd). James and Kendall plopped down aside of him, and Carlos followed after popping a DVD in.

The movie turned out to be "Finding Nemo;" Carlos chose it specifically because Logan detested it, and the other three boys always relished in torturing him with multiple cries of, "Shark bait! Hoo-hah-hah!" throughout the night. As was their custom, they missed the first third of the movie in their rush for the tasty snacks they'd set out. A large bowl of popcorn was passed down the line, and James hesitated, then waved it away when Kendall offered it.

Kendall raised his eyebrows. "No?"

James shook his head, confusing Kendall even more. "Nah," he said. "I'm. . ." He paused, unwilling to say, "I'm watching my weight," because James Diamond didn't need to watch his weight. An answer like that was sure to get a tease from the guys, however harmlessly they might mean it. He finally settled for, "I'm a little queasy."

That of course immediately caught Logan's attention, and he peered over Kendall's head to question James silently as the other two boys' focus returned to the movie. "Are you good?" he whispered, though James couldn't really hear him over the tv.

He got the message though and nodded, hoping the look he gave was a reassuring smile. Logan was a bit unconvinced, but he seemed to accept the answer and turned back to the screen. James' eyes remained glued to the bowl of popcorn that now sat in front of Kendall on the coffee table, and he fidgeted uncomfortably. He wasn't even hungry, not really. He'd eaten dinner; okay, he'd eaten a salad, but it was a truly _massive _salad topped with every healthy thing in the fridge (it had really been worthy of the Food Network, too), so he wasn't starving. But . . . the food was _there_. They _always _pigged out on junk food during movies, and he loved popcorn.

Popcorn was just air, right? It was literally nothing. It was so few calories, it wouldn't even make a difference. He hesitated, then grabbed a fistful and shoved it into his mouth. He had barely even started to chew before he realized it was _covered _in butter. Well, duh. They never ate plain popcorn. What was fun about that?

James suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to gag, and he fought to keep the food in his mouth. Logan would be all over his case if he puked, and that was the last thing James needed. He physically forced himself to swallow, and the popcorn felt like a sickening weight as it traveled down his esophagus. His appetite, already meager, completely vanished after that, as he literally felt the popcorn sitting like lead in his stomach.

The movie took an eternity to finish, and the boys quickly cleaned up and headed to bed while trying to keep quiet for Mrs. Knight and Katie's sakes. James managed to plaster a smile on his face as he and Carlos peeked into their friends' room (just as Logan was drifting off to sleep) to whisper-yell, "Sharkbait! Hoo-hah-hah!" Carlos passed out before his head hit the pillow, and James glanced enviously at his friend as he gathered a clean set of clothes and headed for their bathroom. Carlos could tolerate sleeping in his own sweat for a while. James could not, and they'd had a particularly hard dance session that day. Yes, a shower was an absolute must.

He locked the door (since Carlos was known for stumbling to the bathroom at all hours to pee without even opening his eyes once. . . he actually had impeccable aim, which James could never figure out) and immediately turned the shower on. He hated stepping into a shower before it was warmed up.

He stripped his socks off before moving onto his shirt, stopping to stare at himself in the mirror after throwing the clothes on the floor. He didn't. . . he didn't look fat – did he? He never considered himself fat before. He was toned and built, and he took a lot of pride in the way he stayed in shape. He fought to keep his body looking the way it did, even though he'd never had any particular trouble with his weight. But now. . .

Oh, gosh he literally looked pudgy. He could practically see the fat as he leaned in close to the mirror and studied himself. His chest wasn't so bad, but his stomach made him nauseated. He could see the muscle, but he couldn't feel it when he tightened his stomach or when he ran his fingers across his skin. In fact, he could feel _fat _as he grasped a section of his stomach with his hand.

He glanced towards the scale and didn't even hesitate to pull it from beside the sink. He stepped onto it quickly, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped because as much as he needed to know the number, he was dreading it.

_172\. _

During a very dark time in James' past, a time he'd really tried as best he could to never acknowledge, he'd taken to getting high to deal with his parents' divorce. It wasn't a good solution, and he knew that. It was the whole reason he'd become so focused on his appearance, really. He needed an alternative coping mechanism that wasn't smoking himself into oblivion, and the mirror gave it to him. It didn't disappoint him.

But before that, before he'd really gotten into grooming himself to look like a brunette cross between Matthew McConaughey and Leonardo DiCaprio. . . before that had been the withdrawal when he tried to stop smoking. His older sister Gwen had advertised weed and cocaine quite well, considering how willingly he'd taken up the habit with her. But she hadn't warned him what it would feel like when he suddenly deprived himself of the white powder. James missed two hockey games and more time with his family than he could count because he'd locked himself away in his bedroom to try and stop the symptoms. The shaking was terrible, so bad he couldn't even grasp anything. He stood with his arms uselessly limp at his sides as his hands trembled ferociously. There were times he was so dizzy he couldn't even leave his bed, and he'd once had to crawl on the floor like a dog to get to the bathroom because he couldn't even stand upright. But the worst was the panic.

He'd only had two panic attacks, one occurring not even three days after he'd quit cold turkey (which in hindsight, wasn't the smartest idea). But he remembered the horribly dark feeling sweeping over him as suddenly as a light bulb going out, and before he knew it he was shaking and crying and feeling as though he were literally having a heart attack in his bathroom.

Ironically, he was technically now in the same place; a bathroom, just the one adjacent to his and Carlos' room, and not the one down the hall from his room at his mother's house. The feeling was identical though. He felt the panic creep over him like water, and he froze in place, running his fingers through his hair as his breathing accelerated and he desperately tried to get a hold of himself.

_It's just a number, _he repeated to himself, stepping off the scale and nearly tossing it back into its place. He couldn't bear to see it. _It's just a number_.

Except it wasn't.

It wasn't just a number. It was _him_.

He shouldn't have eaten the popcorn. Heck, he shouldn't have eaten such a large salad. He'd read once that you were only supposed to have one serving of fruit per day, as if two apples instead of one could somehow backfire and cause a massive weight gain. Maybe that was true for vegetables. Maybe all the healthy-looking food he'd piled on his plate earlier was rebelling against him for some reason. The popcorn certainly was. That had been a stupid decision on his part, really. He did so well through the entire week, and he'd ruined it with that. He wanted it _out_.

Gwen had purged a few times. She was a flyer in cheerleading, and she liked to brag about being the lightest on her team. Even at a young age, James knew it wasn't healthy. Food wasn't supposed to come back out like _that_. But she swore by it. And he'd heard girls talk about it at their school back home, and on social media, and even a few at the Palmwoods. And yeah, it wasn't anywhere close to the majority of them, but. . . surely it couldn't be that bad if so many people did it, right?

James eyed the toilet beside him warily, resisting the urge to wring his hands. He swallowed with a bit of difficulty. This couldn't possibly be a good idea.

But. . . he was "The Face" of Big Time Rush. He was _supposed _to look good. And "good" in Hollywood was absolutely _not 172 pounds_. Not by a long shot.

He knelt cautiously in front of the toilet and readied his finger, staring into the water as his pulse pounded in his chest. He really hoped it wouldn't hurt.

When they had to get shots, Logan always told them the anticipation was the worst part. Sitting in the waiting room shaking like a leaf and imagining gruesome pain was much worse than the actual injections, and on most occasions, he was proven right.

Not this time. This time, the anticipation was much more tolerable than the actual action.

James had a weak gag reflex; he got nauseated at the sight of anything even remotely grotesque. So, he'd barely gotten his finger to the back of his throat before he started gagging. He wasn't supposed to be throwing up, so his stomach heaved painfully until it expelled a good portion of his food from that day. He had no way to control when he stopped, and he continued to gag and heave and spit for at least a full two minutes before his stomach stopped trying to empty itself. It clenched painfully, and sharp jabs radiated from his torso up through his chest. His throat burned.

He leaned against the wall behind him, thankful he'd left the shower running to conceal the sounds as he wheezed. He clutched his stomach with a grimace. How did his sister do that on a weekly basis? James felt like he was _dying_.

The pain gradually subsided, and James gathered the strength to stand and flush his mess down the toilet. The food was out, and that was what mattered, although he was fairly certain he'd never do that again. And clearly avoiding food was going to be a problem.

He'd have to find another way.

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**AN: What did you guys think? Please review! I love hearing your feedback! I hope everyone has a Happy Easter! Remember, HE IS RISEN! God bless you!**

**-downtonabbey15**


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Hey guys! Wow, two chapters in one night! Look at me go! I have to get up early for work tomorrow but who needs sleep? Anyway, here's the final chapter! I'm sort of glad to get this over with because I have a good chunk of the sequel done and I've been aching to get that posted. Rough guesstimate, the prologue and chapter one of the sequel should be up sometime tomorrow.

Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter!

WARNING: Depictions of purging and an eating disorder.

I don't own BTR.

* * *

"Where were you?" is the first question out of Logan's mouth when James hurries through the door of apartment 2J. He's sitting at the counter with a book in front of him (surprise, surprise), and for a moment James feels like a deer in the headlights until he realizes Logan's question was casual and not calculated.

It was three weeks after his. . . episode in the bathroom, and James had tried and failed to take control of himself. He'd gotten his calorie intake to 800 or less per day, and he spent nearly all of his free time at the gym. He was pleased at first; the number on the scale dropped steadily for nearly two and a half weeks. He was at 157 now, and he loved it. But he felt heavy. He could feel it as he walked across a room, as he sat down on a chair and it creaked, as he laid down on his bed and structure groaned beneath him. James was nearly 6'3", but he didn't ever remember his footsteps and movements sounding so. . . weighted. Maybe he just needed to lose a few more pounds.

James chuckled nervously, hurriedly slapping a dumb smile on his face. "Oh, I just, felt like a walk that's all."

Logan nodded and seemed to accept that answer before returning to his book. "Kendall and Carlos are at the pool if you're interested," he offered.

James smiled again, even though Logan wasn't looking. "Uh, yeah. Let me just get changed." He headed towards swirly. "You comin' down too?"

"Yeah, I just want to finish - what is that?"

James froze with one leg already poised to climb the slide. The odd rattling in his pocket ceased, but it was unmistakable. "O-oh," he sputtered. Logan was giving him a much more serious look now as he surveyed the taller boy, and it made James' stomach drop. "Nothing," he said quickly. "It must have been swirly." He stepped onto the slide again, and the rattle sounded. "Yep, it's swirly," he chuckled. He hurried up the slide, calling, "Maybe she needs a bolt tightened or something." If Logan answered, he didn't hear him, for James was already up the slide and hurrying to his room. He pointedly locked the door behind him. Logan wasn't nosy, but. . . if he thought something was wrong, he wouldn't hesitate to invade James' privacy.

He'd promised himself he'd never take anything again. He promised to be a better brother to his siblings after his parents had basically ripped their home life down the middle, and he'd vowed that he wouldn't let drugs control him anymore. And he wasn't, not really.

Laxatives weren't bad or anything, were they? People took them all the time. They took diet pills too. Those were the real prize. The laxatives were a last resort because, well, ew.

But diet pills wouldn't hurt him. They would curb his appetite, according to the box. He was struggling to stay away from food, and he really didn't want to purge again. He didn't think he physically could, it hurt so much. The pills would help with that. It would help him eat less, so he wouldn't have to worry about getting it out later. He pulled the two small boxes from his inside jacket pocket and quickly opened the first, pouring a few into his hand. It was small and white. It looked just like Tylenol, actually. It was harmless, right?

He figured just one was a good idea. He didn't want no appetite, he just. . . wanted less of one. And his friends would surely catch on if he didn't eat anything. With a shrug, James popped the pill and washed it down with a gulp of water. He quickly tossed both bottles into his nightstand drawer.

It wasn't technically starving himself if he couldn't feel he was starving.

* * *

James Diamond was crying.

He couldn't remember the last time he really cried. He was a dude. Dudes only cried for really serious things. Dudes did not cry because they binged. He was pretty sure most dudes didn't even worry about binging.

He'd ruined all his hard work now. He'd joined Kendall and Carlos and eventually Logan at the pool that afternoon, and he'd almost forgotten about the incident with the pill until Carlos had complained he was starving to death. Kendall suggested they head to a burger joint down the street, and they did. And despite the pill, James was hungry, and he didn't want to arouse any suspicions. So he ate. He ate what would have been considered normal for him, but yet here he was, leaning over the bathroom sink, shaking with sobs because he could feel the food sitting like a bowling ball in his stomach and he wanted nothing more than to get it out. Clearly, one diet pill an hour before eating wasn't going to do the trick. The box of laxatives sat in front of him, and James inwardly cringed. He'd never taken anything like them before, and he really didn't want to be up all night. He would probably wake up Carlos, who would probably get Logan, and James was pretty sure the shorter brunette was on to him. Logan had given him odd looks all afternoon, and James knew he couldn't have missed the way he nearly burst into tears when they'd returned to the apartment.

He swallowed hard, trying in vain to get a hold of himself. It was late, and everyone else was in bed as far as he knew. But as much as he tried, the tears wouldn't stop coming, and James sank down into a ball on the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees as his body shook with sobs. He'd been doing so well, too. He got to 157, for crying out loud! And while he loved the number, he didn't feel any better, and their pig-out fest earlier certainly hadn't helped.

He needed that food out now.

He quickly got up, switching the faucet on full blast before he kneeled in front of the toilet. There was almost no hesitation this time, and he jabbed his finger down his throat, hoping the rushing water would block the sounds.

* * *

A pillow abruptly met Logan's face with a loud thump! and the shorter boy quickly sat up and chucked it back at Kendall. "Yes?"

Kendall tossed his socks haphazardly onto a small pile on the floor (Logan cringed) before sitting on the edge of his bed. "What's up?"

Logan's brow furrowed. "Uh, you threw a pillow at me."

"Yeah, 'cause you have that. . ." Kendall waved a hand aimlessly in front of his own face. "Pondering face on."

". . .Pondering face?"

Kendall nodded, recognizing Logan's attempt to divert the conversation. He didn't hesitate to steer it back in the direction he wanted. "What's up?" he repeated.

The shorter boy heaved a sigh and sat up, propping himself against his headboard. "Have you noticed anything weird with James?"

Kendall shrugged, though he didn't seem at all dismissive of Logan's concern. "Not really. Why, have you?"

Logan shook his head and let his eyes rest on his hands. He picked at his thumbnail. "I'm probably just over-analyzing. . ."

"Over-analyzing what?"

He hesitated. "Did you see how he looked today? After we finished eating." The blonde shook his head. "He looked really upset."

Kendall shrugged again. "Maybe one of us said something?" he suggested. "And he took it the wrong way?"

Logan shook his head. "I can't remember. But um. . . when he got in today? He told me he went for a walk."

Kendall swung his legs into bed and pulled the comforter up to his waist, leaning back against his pillow. "Yeah. That's what he told me too."

"I heard pills in his pocket, Kendall. And when I asked him, he wouldn't talk about it or anything."

Kendall sat up slowly, propping himself up on his elbow. His tone was a bit more serious now. "He gets headaches. Maybe it was just Excedrin or something."

"But then why wouldn't he tell me?" He could see Kendall's eyes drift towards his bedspread for a moment as he fiddled thoughtfully with the sheets. "Nevermind," Logan said quickly, laying back down. "It's late and I'm just overthinking it."

"No, you're not," Kendall said suddenly, tossing the covers off and standing.

"It's probably nothing."

"And if it's nothing, then he won't have a problem telling me about it, right?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead heading determinedly out of their bedroom and next door. He knocked and stepped right inside.

James' bed was empty, but Carlos was flopped over on his stomach, half asleep. He lifted a hand and let out a weak, "Hey, Kendall," before dropping his hand and snoring a bit (Kendall wasn't even sure how he knew it was him considering he didn't open his eyes). Light shone from under the door of their attached bathroom, and Kendall didn't hesitate to lift his hand with the intent of knocking. He never got the chance though, because the sound of James' retching reached him clearly through the door.

"James?" he called worriedly, tossing open the door because the heck with privacy, they were brothers and if-

He opened the door just in time to see James thrust a shaking finger to the back of his throat before hurling painfully into the toilet again. He panted hard and lifted his head with a deer caught in the headlights look as he and Kendall locked eyes. James broke first, unable to stop as another heave ripped through him and sent him gagging back into the toilet bowl. Kendall turned his head just enough to see Carlos, who'd surprisingly been awoken by the commotion.

"Get Logan," Kendall said quietly, hoping to avoid waking his mother and sister, and Carlos instantly obeyed and hurried into the next room as Kendall turned his gaze back to James. His eyes landed on the box of laxatives on the counter, and he grabbed them before he could think.

Logan was at his side before he thought humanly possible, and the shorter boy was already leaning worriedly over James and speaking quietly to him as he heaved. Carlos stood perplexed in the doorway, craning his neck to see beyond Kendall. Logan's eyes moved to the box in Kendall's hand and then to his face, and Kendall could see he'd already gaged the situation without anything even being said.

James eventually stopped gagging and wiped quickly at his mouth. He sat back apprehensively on his heels, avoiding their eyes as he caught his breath. Logan grabbed a paper cup and filled it with tap water before handing it to him. "If you can't keep that down, we're going to the ER," he told him firmly but quietly.

James shook his head as he accepted the cup. "I can keep it down."

Logan said nothing, but stared at him as if to say, "Show me." James reluctantly sipped the water, praying it wouldn't make a reappearance. This wasn't serious enough for a hospital and he really didn't want to sit in a waiting room for three hours. Logan's face suddenly peered into his own, and James realized he was speaking.

"James, did you take any of these?" he asked, gesturing to the box in Kendall's hand.

Hesitantly, the taller boy shook his head. "Not those," he admitted quietly.

". . . What did you take?"

He lifted a weak and shaking hand and pointed to the bedroom. "It's in my nightstand." He knew there was no point in even trying to hide the pills, now that the others had seen him. They didn't tread on each other's' privacy, but he knew they wouldn't hesitate to search through his stuff in a situation like this.

Kendall immediately headed for James' side of the room and fought to keep his hands from shaking as he opened the drawer of the nightstand. The bottle of pills was right on top of a whole pile of other junk, and Kendall quickly grabbed it and turned it over. Diet pills. Were these the same as laxatives? James had had a problem with drugs before. As far as he knew, addiction didn't just go away. Even though James had stopped ages ago, he was unnecessarily vigilant in choosing what he took. He avoided getting too close to the maximum daily amount of things like Tylenol and Ibuprofen when he was sick, and he rarely agreed to take prescription drugs.

He quickly returned to the bathroom and handed the bottle to Logan, who scrutinized it.

"How long have you been taking these?" he asked James quietly.

James shook his head. "Just today. I only took one."

Logan handed the bottle back to Kendall as he and Carlos looked on uncertainly. "He's fine," he mouthed, rubbing a hand across his face and turning back to James, who'd finished the water and was now keeping his eyes on the floor. A tense silence settled over the room, broken only by James' gradually calming breathing. Kendall looked hesitantly between Logan and Carlos because this was uncharted territory. Yes, he was the so-called "leader" and would normally confront the situation first, but Logan was the near-doctor, and Kendall wasn't sure what he should and shouldn't say or if he might make things any worse. Uncertainty was a feeling he truly hated.

After what felt like hours, he eventually licked his lips and swallowed uncomfortably. "James, you can't do that," was what he finally said, mentally applauding himself for the sheer brilliance of that statement. But he couldn't think of anything else to say, and Carlos and Logan didn't look like they would be speaking any time soon.

James was silent for a moment before answering quietly with an, "I know."

Logan seemed to stiffen beside Kendall. "Then why are you doing it?" he asked gently.

James hesitated, then shook his head with a shrug. "I don't know."

"You 'don't know,'" Kendall almost snapped.

Logan shot him a look and shook his head as if to say, "Stop." He crouched down close to James, who kept his eyes trained on the floor. "James, you can really hurt yourself. You know that, right?"

James bit his lip and nodded, unable to speak as a lump formed in his throat. Of course he knew that; he wasn't a moron. He was afraid he'd already hurt himself because his throat burned and his stomach ached all the way up into his chest, and he was sure that wasn't good.

Logan was nodding his head, looking almost relieved to hear that James understood (did he really think he was that stupid? Then again, they were sitting in the bathroom with James' self-induced vomit in the toilet. . .). He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again, unsure. He glanced up at the others, who looked equally as hesitant. Surprisingly, it was Carlos who broke the silence.

"You don't need to do that, Jay," he said quietly, lifting his eyes from the floor to James' still hidden face.

James swallowed hard and paused generously before speaking. "I gained weight," he admitted hoarsely, swallowing again in an effort to keep from crying.

Kendall shook his head, though James couldn't see it. "So?"

The taller boy's face immediately snapped upward to meet Kendall's gaze. "That's horrible," he croaked out.

"James," Logan began hesitantly. "Bodies change. Our bodies are never gonna stop changing. Gaining weight isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"It is for me!" James exclaimed, unable to stop his eyes from filling with tears. "The way I look. . . that's all I have. If I lose that, I have nothing."

"Uh, that's not true," Kendall countered. "Dude, you're an amazing singer. And actor. And dancer."

Logan nodded in agreement. "Yeah. And you're really funny."

"And you're like, one of the nicest people I know," Carlos added. "You've got nothing to dislike about yourself, dude."

"You have no reason to do this to yourself," Kendall said firmly. "It's not healthy, James."

James sat up a bit straighter, though he didn't seem to have taken any of their comments to heart. "Please don't tell your mom," he begged quietly, sniffing.

Kendall and Logan shared a look. "James-" the blonde began.

"She'll just tell my mom," James interrupted. "And you know how my mom gets. She'll just fly out here and drive us all insane and make us miserable."

Kendall and Carlos seemed to look to Logan for confirmation, and the shorter brunette thought hard before turning to James with a look that said he wasn't kidding around. "You've got a month," he said firmly. "This stuff can get really bad really fast, James. You can really mess yourself up."

"I know. . ."

"If you're not any better in a month, we're telling Mrs. Knight. You're eighteen, your mom can't make you go back to Minnesota like last time."

"But she can fly out here and drive us all up the wall."

"Well, she won't have to," Carlos chimed in. "Because we're gonna help, right guys?"

Kendall and Logan nodded earnestly. "Yeah," Kendall said, patting James knee. "We got your back man. It'll be okay."

James swallowed hard, nodding mutely. He really didn't deserve them. He expected them to be furious with him, but they weren't. Kendall was clearly. . . okay, Kendall wasn't usually the best at processing his emotions. He typically got angry when deep down he was worried, and James had known him long enough to see that his frustration was clearly a cover-up in this situation. He felt like a nuisance, making them worry about him. But looking around at their faces, he could tell they didn't feel that way at all.

Maybe things really would be okay, as long as he had them.

* * *

AN: There you go! What did you guys think? Please review! I love to hear your thoughts! Stay tuned for the sequel!

God bless you and have a good day!

-downtonabbey15


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